::03:08:08::

::: 52: The Endless Parade :::

I am broken in
I can feel it in my fading black and white photograph-face
My jackboots in a sex shop window
Bottled water and Redbull can’t save me, you or Jesus
Don’t be a beauty school drop out
The smell of freshly scrubbed bleach against the puke concrete
In a slow-motion crash
With front-block flower shop bodegas
I am broken in with
These red eyes of Manhattan
Passing Gascoigne and its prefix 20 dollar Sundays
Here in over the rainbow Chelsea
F*ck a Lucky outside the Sid and Nancy Hotel
A journey in killing b*tches and time with no memory
I overhear: You look so L.A. cruising me
Hey these are Chelsea styles
Candyworld where Candy wants you to come down
And passport fotos only take 5 minutes
Tong’s Tailor
225
The Pita Hut specializing in vegetarian food
Exclusive dealers of wireless
And tradition is walking out the door
And down the street, 23rd
While the public toilet buses crawl past the gym
Hey these are Chelsea styles
Where at Michael’s Barber Shop
You can be today’s style
But not tomorrow
There is Nice Laundry and
Dry cleaning just before 7th Avenue
This is where Tom would say: “Pool Cue or Buttery-Cue-Ball Moon”
I can’t and I just did, broken in
Sun b*tch-slapping the red brick, the iron escapes and the Brownstones
Like an Edward Hopper Calendar
50 years out of date
My ass up against the hotel grate
Like the dog outside
This lazy Sunday
My jackboot barely licking
A cold cup of sad Joe
Outside the Chelsea Hotel
Where all I see
Are the endless parades
Of Chelsea styles

Written by: ~ J.D. Szalla

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